


For Her

by cuckleberrywish



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-01-18
Packaged: 2018-03-08 03:35:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3193751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuckleberrywish/pseuds/cuckleberrywish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He doesn’t know how, and he doesn’t ask why, because she’s back and the only remnants of him left inside her are the ones she’s let in herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Her

**Author's Note:**

> Assuming EoT didn't happen, of course...

 

_He’s rain-soaked and brooding when he hears a knock on the TARDIS door._

_“You didn’t think you could just leave me behind, did you?” she says with a crooked smirk when he swings the door open. He doesn’t know how, and he doesn’t ask why, because she’s back and the only remnants of him left inside her are the ones she’s let in herself. He pulls her into his arms, and she murmurs, “Steady on, Martian,” but hugs him back just as tightly._

_He pulls back, still gripping her shoulders as if he can’t quite believe she’s real._

_“Right then, loads to see! No time to dawdle!” he says, and bounds over to the console. She stills him with a hand laid gently on his arm._

_“Hold on a tick, what I need is a hot shower and a nap, not another adventure.”_

_He wilts a little and she rolls her eyes._

_“Oh don’t look so sulky, Spaceman. I’ll bake you banana bread when I’m done.”_

_He perks up instantly again, and she stifles a laugh. She smiles wanly and her eyes seem to say, ‘you’re an idiot, but I’m rather fond of you anyhow.’_

_Just as she’s leaving the console room he calls her name._

_“I’m uh…. I’m glad you’re back,” he says quietly, fidgeting with the instruments beneath his hands._

_“Me too, Spaceman.”_

 

____________________________________

_Because he can’t quite bear to be parted from her, not now when he thought he’d never see her again, they end up in the library together. Donna’s curled up in the corner of the sofa, and the Doctor’s sprawled out with his feet on her lap, munching banana bread happily and heeding her dire warning not to get crumbs on the carpet as best he can. He steals glances at her every so often, and he feels so content he could burst even though she swats at his toes every time a chunk of bread hits the floor._

_“Dunno why you put up with him,” Donna grumbles to the room at large. The TARDIS hums back warmly. The Doctor suspects that the TARDIS wanted Donna back just as much as he did, but having the two in cahoots is certainly a perturbing thought._

_“Don’t you conspire with my ship,” he says through a mouthful of food. He gets a particularly hard swat on the toes for that. He pulls an indignant frown but grins as soon as she looks away._

_It’s this sort of thing that he’s found he missed the most. He loves adventuring with Donna. He loves her compassion, her brilliance, her fire, when they’re running for their lives on some remote planet. But more than anything, he loves the quiet time._

 

__________________________________

The Doctor wakes up crying.

He startles into consciousness, notices his pillow is damp, swipes at his cheeks and is forced to admit it. He’s been doing that a lot lately though. It’s not prudent, he thinks, for a Time Lord to cry so much, but it can hardly be helped.

There’s a black suit and tie hanging over the chair across from his bed. Not his unlucky tuxedo, no, and his pinstripes somehow just aren’t quite right. He stumbles out of bed and tugs it on, swallowing past the lump of apprehension in his throat.

Outside the TARDIS doors, Martha’s made breakfast.

“You’ve got to eat something,” she says, but he just shakes his head and grunts something about a superior Time Lord metabolism. She rolls her eyes and chucks his eggs in the bin. He knows his presence has been wearing on her. He’s been going mad himself with nothing to dwell on here but memories, but he knows he can’t leave yet.

“I dreamt about her last night,” he says quietly, and immediately Martha’s irritation fades. She strokes a hand down his back but doesn’t know what to say.

 

 

__________________________________

_The Doctor takes her to the Santorian Fields on the planet Flux. They’re lounging on a blanket beneath the twin suns, listening to the sound of the ocean crash on the cliffs below. There’s not a soul here and she’s so distracted by the magnificence of the scenery that he can stare at her to his hearts’ content and she doesn’t notice._

_He’s been doing that a lot, staring at her. He’ll do it until he’s completely convinced he won’t lose her again._

_Anyhow, she’s a little more lenient with him since she's returned, a bit less likely to swat at him and call him a daft old sod if he expresses too much affection for her._

_“So how did you do it?” he says, startling her out of her thoughts._

_“What now?”_

_“Y’know,” he wiggles his fingers around his head and she snorts. “Get rid of the Time Lord consciousness.”_

_She shrugs. “Dunno. Woke up one morning. It was gone.”_

_She seems unconcerned and unwilling to elaborate. They’re still walking on eggshells around each other, mostly out of fear of puncturing the happy bubble they’ve been in since her return. He hasn’t botched a single “beach” trip, and in exchange she’s only smacked him once (for finishing her favorite biscuits). He knows soon they’ll return to adventuring through the stars, but right now he’s not quite ready yet and he finds he just wants to enjoy her company without the constant threat of death._

_“But… but that doesn’t make any sense.”_

_She looks at him shrewdly, and he feels a prickle of unease, like he's put his foot in something he ought not to._

_“Doctor, does any of this make any sense?”_

_“W-what?”_

_“You know, Doctor.”_

_She doesn’t sound like herself anymore, and he's sure then. He's ruined it all. He can feel it slipping through his fingers._

_“You know what’s happening.”_

_“N-no,” he stammers._

_“The world is wrong.”_

_“It… it isn’t, Donna please, don’t--”_

_She smiles at him, widely, and it unsettles him for some reason. She neatly rises from the blanket and starts walking toward the cliffs._

_“D-Donna what are you doing? Donna please, just explain to me, just--”_

_He has to jog to keep up with her, but she’s not paying attention even as he dances around her trying to get her to focus on him. He’s practically waving his arms in her face, and she’s still making her inexorable journey toward the edge._

_“Donna!” he cries, as she comes to the drop off. She halts._

_Donna turns toward him and raises a hand to his cheek. He covers her hand with his and grasps it. Her fingers are cold._

_“D-Donna.”_

_“Find someone,” she says, smiling warmly even though there are tears gathering in her eyes._

_“W-what? I don’t want-- I want--”_

_“I think you need somebody to stop you.”_

_He can feel tears soaking his cheeks now, and he lets them fall, grips her hand where it cups his cheek._

_“Y-you, that’s you, that’s--”_

_And then, somehow her hand slides out from beneath his iron grip and she leaps into the abyss, a half smile still on her face._

 

 

__________________________________

“I could come with you if you want… just for a bit, y’know… after.”

Martha’s still stroking his shoulder, eyeing the way he’s gripping the counter so hard his knuckles have gone white. He doesn’t deserve Martha. After everything he's done to her, the young doctor is still too kind to him.

“No,” he says. “Thank you, but no.”

He can’t shake the longing. The ache in his hearts. The feeling like there’s something just beyond his reach and he’s suffocating. He thinks this must be how she felt, in the end. It breaks his hearts all over again.

They meet Jack at the church, and he’s with Sarah Jane, Luke and Mickey. The Doctor is surprised to see them all.

“We all wanted to be here for her... and for you,” Sarah Jane says, by way of explanation. He finds he can’t quite summon the words to express his gratitude but they seem to understand anyhow.

Sylvia eyes him testily as she walks by and he feels a stab of anger. As if he isn’t hurting. As if he doesn’t deserve to be there. But his anger is tempered by understanding. He knows Sylvia sees him as the one who took her daughter away. He can’t stop thinking about his dream, about her absolute serenity as she leapt off the cliff.

 

 

__________________________________

He comes back to the graveyard hours later after everyone has gone. There’s a light mist falling and he relishes in the uncomfortable feeling of his damp suit clinging to his skin. He’d found he couldn’t quite bear to be surrounded by everyone else, who knew her for so much longer when he’s sure he knew her so much better.

He lays flowers on her grave and reads the words etched on the headstone. Somehow it’s so much more final, so much more painful to see her name, etched in stone, Donna Noble in her final resting place. Not among the stars where she belongs and fifty years before her time. A stab of guilt chokes his breath.

“I thought you might be here,” a voice interrupts his thoughts.

It’s Wilf, hobbling down the path until he’s standing next to the Doctor.

“You musn’t feel guilty,” Wilf says after a while, as if he can read the Doctor’s thoughts. “She’s at peace now.”

The Doctor doesn’t say anything, just stares at the ground and wonders at the kind man that manages to comfort him when his own heart must be in splinters.

“I reckon she was gone the day you brought her home to us, really,” Wilf says, and his voice breaks a little. “She wasn’t right after that. Her body just caught up with her mind, that’s all.”

“My beautiful granddaughter,” Wilf murmurs almost to himself, and swipes at the wetness on his cheeks. The Doctor puts an arm around Wilf’s shoulders, biting back his own tears and Wilf leans gratefully into him.

They stand in silence for a while in the drizzle, until the Doctor can’t bear it any longer, and turns to go.

“Wait, Doctor,” he says, and pulls a damp piece of paper out of his pocket. “She… she wrote this for you. Back when them Sontarans were mucking about. She gave it to me and she said, ‘if anything ever happens to me Gramps, you just give this to ‘im.’ I wouldn’t listen to her at the time, I couldn’t…. wouldn’t imagine anything ever happening to her--”

He takes the paper and hugs Wilf tightly when he chokes up and is unable to speak.

“She was so lucky to have you,” Wilf says.

“Likewise,” the Doctor answers, quietly.

 

 

__________________________________

He doesn’t open the letter until he’s back on the TARDIS. The sight of her neat, slanted handwriting sends a pang through him.

_Spaceman -_

_If you’re reading this, it means I’m not there. Right now I’m sitting on the jumpseat and you’re clanging around underneath the console doing god-knows-what and all I can see is your stupid trainers wiggling every now and then and it’s hard for me right now to picture anything but this, anything but us, together, but I know it’s a big dangerous universe. And I am nothing if not prepared. Supertemp, and whatnot._

_I don’t know how it happened. I hope it was in a fiery blaze of glory and I hope I wasn’t quiet about it. But for whatever reason, if I’m not there, you’re probably blaming yourself. Which is stupid. I know you can be a bit of an idiot but it is essential that you remember this Doctor, so file it away in that ridiculous brain of yours: It is not your fault. And whatever happened, know that it was worth it to me. Being with you. Seeing the stars and getting out of my little boring old life. I loved every second of it. Even when I was shouting at you. Especially when I was shouting at you. You are the best friend I’ve ever had and I love you from the very bottom of my heart. I know we’re not so good at feeling vulnerable, you and me. We’re more likely to start babbling loudly at the first sign either of us is opening up. But I want you to know that. I want you to know how important you are to me at the end. And I can feel vulnerable around you, and know I’m safe. Thank you for that. And for everything. For the stars._

_But I have a few instructions for you to follow in my absence, Doctor. And if you fail to do any of them, you better believe I will figure out a way to come back and haunt you, you dumb Martian._

_1) For the love of God, stop eating in the library. The TARDIS hates it. We’ve chatted._  
_2) Don’t forget to water my plants._  
_3) Tell my mother and grandfather what happened to me, the truth. You owe that to them._  
_4) Do the washing up once in a while. God knows a messy kitchen won’t attract you a new companion and on that note:_  
_5)Find someone, Doctor. I know you won’t want to. I know you won’t think you need someone. But you do, especially after I’m gone because I know how you go all broody and angst-ridden after you lose something or do something bad and I won’t be there to hug you and tell you to suck it up. So at the very least, find someone who will shout at you when you’re being a dangerous prat._  
_6) Explore a new world. For me._

_So you best get on with that list. I think I’ll go and tie your shoelaces together, now. It’s just too tempting. Childish? Maybe. Hilarious? Absolutely. Anyhow, I think you’ve helped me embrace my inner child a bit more since I’ve been living with you, so this one’s on you mate. See you later._

_Donna xx_

The Doctor is crying, but smiling too when he tucks the paper into his jacket pocket, right over his left heart. It’s just so _Donna_ he could burst. He wishes he could hug her, could tell her her last gift to him was just as brilliant as she was in her life, but all he can do is heed her wishes. So he mops at his eyes and makes his way over the console, flipping the dematerialization lever.

He’ll find a new world. _For her._


End file.
